Memories That You Call
by DwellingOnDreams619
Summary: Sleeping is always a dangerous adventure for one Harry Potter. Written for the Hinny discord's 2019 Secret Santa event. My first ever fic. One shot.


Harry gently dips his toes into the cold stream, letting them get used to the freezing temperature. His boots and socks neatly placed next to him, caked in mud and grime. Carefully lowering the rest of his feet into the water Harry feels his feet touch the smooth, hard surface of the rocks at the bottom of the creek, his hands digging into the mud next to him as he rests the weight of his body. He sighs gently, enjoying this quiet reprieve of responsibilities.

Squinting out across the forest Harry looks among the trees, searching for anything. A bush full of berries, a small rabbit skipping among the shrubbery, a bird singing on a branch. Anything to break the stagnance, the monotony of what his and Hermione's lives have become.

Collecting his thoughts he rises to his feet, grabbing the cloth he has draped over his shoulder and drying himself before grabbing his boots. One foot at a time Harry places a sock on each foot and then a boot over that, heading back towards the campsite.

It's a short trek, a few hundred metres from where they'd claimed space, the tent's canvas quietly flapping from the wind, their small makeshift fire burned out the night before. Harry glances around, not noticing where Hermione has gone. They've talked very little recently. After Ron's departure and the catastrophe that was Godcric's Hollow it feels like there aren't words to cover what has been lost. That they are barely hanging on by a thread, trying to solve Tom Riddle's final puzzles.

Harry sighs again, making his way into the tent, heading over to this cot and grabbing the map that has become his lifeline. He looks at it, folded in upon itself, the names vibrant on the front ever have they been, the 4 wizards who placed their trust in each other, feeling themselves undefeatable. If only they knew what was to come.

Selfishness.

Cowardice.

Betrayal.

Attempting to rid himself of these thoughts, Harry grabs the map, the moleskine pouch and a small lantern and heads out towards the tree that has become his safe place. Somewhere he can attempt to gather his thoughts, forget the intense pressing of reality and just try to be someone he can't. A young man, in love, hoping against hope that he can solve everyone's problems. Someone who gets the girl and lives happily ever after. But that isn't what this is.

He leans back against the tree, his body pressing into the bark, rough and uncomfortable. The back of his head treating the bark like a massage, rubbing gently up and down, comforting in the face of darkness. Breathing deeply, the map is open in front of him, tapping it lightly with the wand that is not his, saying so softly that no one else could hear it, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And here it is, every detail of the castle. Every wizard or witch that walks it's halls laid before him. Yet there is only one name Harry seeks. The only one he his desperate to see, desperate to know that she is alive and well, even if he can't protect it.

She lies down in the dungeons, laid bare before Amycus Carrow, a child with her, who's name he does not recognize. The unknown child is allowed to leave, Ginny staying,

resilient before the oppression, as Crabbe and Goyle join the room to punish her for her subservience.

"NO," Harry screams as he watches them drag her away on the map, unable to do anything, "NO NO NO NO NO," he yells into the forest, his voice lost among the branches and leaves. Unready to deal with what is placed before him.

There's nothing he can do. Only watch, listen, learn. Something no one wants to do, but something that must be done. Someone must witness the atrocities that are happening to the students of Hogwarts, to give the chance that they may never happen again. Every flight of stairs that Crabbe and Goyle drag her up feels like another impending moment of doom, one step closer to Ginny's ultimate demise. An inevitable conclusion, an inescapable future.

But Harry knows she must be stronger than that, that she could never willingly allow herself to be subjected to such atrocities without having another way. So he stares. Stares beyond any kind of rational thought, betraying rationality, blindly trusting her to not just do what is best for everyone, but what is right. Because sometimes even the best of people don't know what that is. Sighing again, Harry leans back against the tree and lets the bark of it press into his scalp, almost like someone is gently caressing his head, telling him it's going to be okay. A cool dampness of sweat against his forever. His vision blurred.

Someone is holding his head in place, fingers brushing through his hair like a soft comb, reassuring in a way that is tough to put words to. But there aren't words to give anymore. Often times it feels like all we can do is make the best of what we have.

Harry awakens on his stomach, staring at the dim, bleakness of the room. The moonlight splashing across the room that would almost be comforting, if not for the circumstances. He can still feel the bark of the tree pressing against his head, the gentle caress of someone's fingers massaging his head. But wait?

He opens one eye and peaks out to a mane of ginger hair, sprawling across the pillow. He follows the gentle peak of it up to a freckled face, eyes piercing but gentle somehow, never demanding but also letting know that if he wants to talk, he can. Her hand is in his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a way the bark of trees never could.

Feeling the dampness of his forehead, Harry breathes deeply through his nose in an attempt to calm himself, to maintain some kind of order. Brushing his hand back through his head over his scalp he finds her fingers and grasps them gently, bringing her knuckles to his mouth in a soft kiss.

"Bad dream, love?" Ginny asks.

"More of the same," Harry whispers back to her.

She is sitting up, her sleeping clothes a size too small for her, her blouse creeping up slightly to show her midriff. Small scars poking out here and there, reminders of the cost that their freedom has brought.

There are so many things left unspoken from that year, words that are impossible to convey. How could he ever explain the impending doom he constantly felt? The constant realization that against his own best efforts, he was most likely to die.

But she was always worth it, whatever universe, whatever reality he could solve, could fix, if she was there, it was worth it. If she lived and continued her life, amongst her family and friends, if he could give that opportunity, it all felt worth it.

Harry propped himself up and leaned against the wall, using the breathing techniques that Mad-Eye had taught him a lifetime ago. He sighed again, gently, and leaned back, trying to calm his irregular heartbeat.

Ginny placed her hand over his chest, she did this quite often. He usually assumed it was for her own small comfort, to be able to feel the beat of his heart, ever resilient. Knowing that against all the odds he had come back, not just to rid the world of darkness, but to her. To their love. He brought his hand up to grasp hers, his thumb lightly caressing her worries away.

After a moment he lifted her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly, turning his head to stare deeply into her eyes. Smiling gently, he raised an eyebrow at her in question, to which she rolled her eyes and snuggled deeply into him, sharing each other's warmth.

They sit in silence for a while, basking in each other's comfort before Harry foolishly opens his mouth, words he doesn't know how to say spilling forth, "I dreamt about the forest, again."

Ginny's body doesn't move but her eyes lift up towards his face, considering him. Her finger trails down from his chin over his chest, lightly tracing the scar that covers the spot where Voldemort's final curse rebounded. She never asked what happened that evening in the forest, because he knew she understood. He never intended to walk away from that clearing in the woods with his life, his intentions were true, his demise was sealed. So every moment beyond that was something to be cherished, something to hold on to.

He wrapped his arms around her and brought her into him, their legs and arms wrapping around each other. "I love you, you insufferable git." she told him. Harry smirked at the terms of endearment. Only Ginny knew what to say to him in the way that he could hear it.

In that moment, Harry considered words once spoken to him, by a man who had lived a lifetime of regret, hoping to show some young, foolish boy how to make the most of everything. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, Harry." The words reverberating against his skull like a hammer.

Glancing down again at Ginny, her hair splayed out across his chest, Harry silently smiled to himself and felt the weight of those words.

Yes, against all his wildest dreams, he had lived. And he intended to continue doing so.


End file.
